


Her Eyes (As We Said Our Goodbyes)

by greenbergsays



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Girl!Greenberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbergsays/pseuds/greenbergsays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Please</i>, he thought as they stared at one another. <i>Please don’t die.</i></p><p>*</p><p>Or the one where Greenberg is bitten by a zombie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Eyes (As We Said Our Goodbyes)

**Author's Note:**

> This features my favorite thing in the world: Girl!Greenberg. I accept no other headcanon, tbh. 
> 
> Also, all the usual violence that goes along with a zombie AU.

The first thing Bobby became aware of was pain. A dull, aching throb in his ankle and a sharper, more immediate pain in his skull. Blood slid down the side of his face and when he reached a heavy hand up, he could feel it in his hair, sticky and wet.

His memory was foggy and jagged, most likely from the head wound, but he knew that something important had happened. There was something he needed to do, someone he needed -

Bobby’s eyes snapped open, his body surging upwards in panic but he was immediately pushed back down. Danny hovered above him, concern clouding his brown eyes.

“Easy there,” he advised. “They tell me you fell hard.”

Bobby blinked up at him, allowing his mind to catch up. He wasn’t in the field anymore but back in the encampment. Past Danny, he could see the patchwork tarp that meant he was in the med-tent, receiving treatment for what was most likely a sprained ankle and a mild concussion.

Lack of a licensed doctor didn’t mean a lack of injuries; they made do with what they had, whoever could stomach it taking their turns patching people up. Bobby had picked up enough during his rounds that he didn’t need Danny to tell him what was wrong.

He didn’t really care what was wrong with them. There was someone he worried about more.

“Greenberg,” he asked Danny. “Where is she?”

Danny blinked, his expression never wavering as he leaned out of Bobby’s field of vision. When he came back, it was with a lukewarm rag to wipe the blood away. He didn’t answer Bobby’s question and in fact, acted like Bobby hadn’t asked anything at all.

“Danny.” Bobby grabbed his wrist, holding it away from him. “ _Where is she_?”

Danny shook his head. “Don’t do this,” he said softly. “Just stay here. You don’t need to be there; let the others handle it.”

 _Handle it_ , Bobby’s mind echoed.

The breath felt punched out of him, his hands trembling at his sides. He knew what Danny wasn’t saying but his mind shied away from the words, unable to accept what it all meant. Shaking his head, he swung his feet over the edge of the cot and tentatively shifted his weight onto his injured ankle. It throbbed in protest but not enough to deter him; he stood  unsteadily, steeling himself against the pain.

“Coach,” Danny said, pursing his lips in disapproval.

Bobby held up a hand and shook his head, stopping him before he could say anything else. “Just tell me where she is,” he pleaded.

Danny’s resolve visibly crumbled under the weight of the desperation in his voice. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The east side of the camp,” Danny told him softly. “They won’t let her come in.”

The hot summer sun beat down on him as soon as Bobby stepped out from under the medical tent’s shade, momentarily blinding him. He blinked until his vision cleared again and when it did, he saw where he needed to go; a throng of people gathered on the other side of the camp.

Gritting his teeth against his protesting ankle, Bobby made his way there. The crowd parted for him when he arrived, one pitying expression after the other turning on him as they let him through. Inside the crowd, there was a wide circle of empty space; everyone was morbidly curious but no one wanted to get too close. No one wanted to catch the disease.

At the center of everything, Stilinski stood with his gun trained on where Greenberg was hunched over in the dirt. She looked like hell, one weakened arm trembling under the strain of supporting her weight while the other cradled her side. Her clothes were torn, her hand pressed against a dark, bloodied spot in her side. The shape of the wound was hidden but Bobby didn’t need to see it to know what it was.

Greenberg had been bitten.

His chest tightened as he finally acknowledged it, the truth that his mind didn’t want to accept. In the grief that threatened to overwhelm him, he couldn’t stop himself from hissing, “ _you idiot_.”

Greenberg’s head snapped up, her gaze unerringly finding his. He wished he hadn’t said anything at all, that she never heard his voice; it was difficult to see her like this, with the changes already underway. The bruised, bloodshot eyes that looked to him, surrounded by sickly pale skin, had very little to do with blood loss or injury. The virus had already taken hold of her.

 _Please_ , he thought as they stared at one another. _Please don’t die._

“You’re supposed to be with Danny.” She said finally, her voice weak and shaking. It was obvious that she was in pain and not just from the wound. Every one of them had witnessed a transformation at least once; they all knew how unbearable it was. “I told him not to let you come.”

“That’s not for you to decide, Greenberg!” He shouted because anger was easier than giving in to the pain in his chest. He couldn’t do that just yet; he couldn’t. “None of this was your decision! Are you happy now? Are you satisfied with the way this turned out?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate and forceful, surprising everyone. Life flared in her eyes as she added, just as forcefully, “you’re safe.”

_You’re safe._

His hands shook.

“Leave,” he said to the group.

No one needed to be told twice. They immediately backed away, turning to go back into the heart of the encampment. Bobby fell to his knees in front of her once they were alone, wanting to reach out and touch but knowing she’d just get angry if he did. When she looked at him this time, he easily saw his own pain and fear reflected in her eyes.

“It’s okay, you know,” Greenberg said softly, wincing against a wave of pain. “If it had to happen, I’m glad it was like this.”

“Greenberg –“

“Desdemona.”

He paused. “What?”

“My name.” She clarified, grimacing in a way that he thought was meant to be a smile. The pain was getting worse, her breathing labored as she forced out, “you don’t. You don’t call me that. Will you? Just once?”

He swallowed and then amended, “Desdemona.” The word felt foreign, his mouth not used to the shape of it, but hearing it brought a genuine smile to her face. She closed her eyes for just a moment, letting it hang between them.

When she moved again, it was to reach behind her. She pulled out a gun; _her_ gun, the one that Bobby had pressed into her hands what seemed like a lifetime ago and grumbled, “don’t shoot yourself.”

His stomach dropped when Greenberg held it between them.

“Stilinski was going to do it for me,” she said, looking at him again. “I can’t do this on my own, Coach. You have to help me.”

The familiar title, used by only a select few in their encampment, fell easily from her lips. Greenberg rarely called him anything else, saving his name for when they were arguing. He’d never again be able to hear it without thinking of this moment, without thinking of her.

Sliding his hand over hers, they grasped the gun together and pressed it to her temple. Her breath ghosted his cheek, tears gathering up in her eyes. From the first outbreak to this moment, she had been his rock and now he had to be hers.

Her eyes whispered a secret she would never say out loud: _I’m scared._

“Be careful,” she told him softly instead. “I won’t be there to keep you out of trouble. Just...be careful, alright?”

“I hate you,” he said in answer. It was a confession and he felt the truth of it in his chest; in that moment, he’d never hated anyone more. “I hate you so much.”

Greenberg’s laugh was choked and hollow, no actual humor held within. The tears finally spilled over as she assured him, “I hate you, too, you asshole.”

Bobby closed his eyes, committing her voice to memory. His breath caught as he steeled himself and then pulled the trigger, squeezing it hard enough to feel the metal digging painfully into his flesh. The crack of gunfire was deafening, the spray of blood hot on his face, but Bobby didn't flinch and he didn't open his eyes.

He sat there, trembling, until long after the ringing in his ears had dimmed.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](greenbergsays.tumblr.com).


End file.
